


Texts From Last Night

by lupwned



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Erin and Holtzmann converse and flirt through texts and something happens, F/F, Flirting, Guess what: she does, Holtzmann has a lot of feelings about Erin, Holtzmann is awkwardly in love with Erin but doesn't think Erin likes her, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:24:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: In the quiet moments, when the firehouse is empty and she is alone, Holtzmann contemplates her existence and why some things, so simple for most around her, are so goddamned difficult. Sometimes, she wishes the wiring in her brain was like the variety she works with daily, easily manipulated in her hands until everything fits just right, the current pulsing, the result (mostly) intentional and purposeful. 1 New Message: ErinHoltzmann lets out a shuddering breath before swiping her thumb across the bottom of the screen, unlocking the device to read the message received. Erin: Hi :)There’s a yellow emoji with a wide smile and squinty eyes at the end of it. She’s not exactly an expert in text etiquette, but she’s fairly certain that emojis mean friendly. Sometimes even flirty. Holtzmann shakes her head and taps her thumbs quickly, replying.Holtzmann: Hi.





	1. Chapter 1

In the quiet moments, when the firehouse is empty and she is alone, Holtzmann contemplates her existence and why some things, so simple for most around her, are so goddamned difficult. Sometimes, she wishes the wiring in her brain was like the variety she works with daily, easily manipulated in her hands until everything fits just right, the current pulsing, the result (mostly) intentional and purposeful.

Erin, that beautiful, brilliant ray of sunshine, only makes everything worse for her. Holtzmann’s brain is an explosion of firing synapses when they interact, overwhelming emotions pulsing through her blood and pounding in her fingertips. Despite this, the red and blue wires of her mind just don’t align with their corresponding plugs, and she just ends up standing there, talking too fast or simply not talking at all. Holtzmann hides her embarrassment well, because _of course she does_ , but inside she simply wishes she could be with Erin without the overwhelming complexity of her brain interrupting.

Holtzmann likes Erin. _Likes_ her, likes her. Sixth grade, check ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in the box kinda like. She _could_ love her; it would take more than a passing touch or half an awkward conversation to know for sure, but her interactions with Erin make her feel something different. Good different, bad different, she’s not entirely sure, but all Holtzmann knows is that it’s _something_ different.

Sometimes, Holtzmann catches herself staring at Erin. Afterward, she hopes it’s with a dreamy, flirty face, one of those hopeless ‘I-love-you’ grins she’s seen in movies that seem to result in a happily ever after. In reality, she’s probably bug eyed and slack-mouthed while she does it.

Erin never criticizes her. She compliments her about her new inventions. She asks how her day goes when the two of them have to stay late, and listens eagerly when Holtz tells her about what she’s recently learned through her studies. Erin even notices when she gets new glasses, with thicker black frames and light-yellow lenses. She says they make Holtzmann look really pretty.

 _Pretty_. Holtzmann doesn’t like pretty, but it’s beautiful coming out of Erin’s mouth.

Holtzmann’s phone buzzes, the noise scaring her back to reality. It’s a little after midnight, and with her forehead scrunched, she grabs her phone and glances as the glowing screen.

**_1 New Message: Erin_ **

Holtzmann lets out a shuddering breath before swiping her thumb across the bottom of the screen, unlocking the device to read the message received.

 

**Erin _: Hi :)_**

 

There’s a yellow emoji with a wide smile and squinty eyes at the end of it. She’s not exactly an expert in text etiquette, but she’s fairly certain that emojis mean friendly. Sometimes even flirty. Holtzmann shakes her head and taps her thumbs quickly, replying.

 

**Holtzman _n: Hi._**

 

She hesitates for a moment, wondering if she should add some sort of smiley to ensure her message conveys a lighthearted tone. She decides against it.

Holtzmann watches out the large upstairs window of the firehouse, the moon glowing bright through the glass and casting a slightly eerie blueish-green glow across the room. When she was in college, and world became too loud, she would climb up the fire escape of her crappy studio apartment and sit in the dark, her knees pulled into her chest watching the stars, so far away from the bullshit of human existence. “When you’re feeling anxious at night, count the stars,” her therapist once told her.

Tonight is starless.

 _Shit_.

Holtzmann’s phone buzzes twice. She reaches for the phone and reads.

 

**Erin: _Are you working?_**

**Erin: _Sorry if I’m bothering you._**

 

Holtz shakes her head.

 

**Holtzmann: _Trying to work but not going so well. You’re a welcome distraction._   **

 

Her hands shake a little as she waits for Erin to respond, the three dots at the bottom flicking up and down. Whoever came up with that stupid animation, Holtzmann is not exactly a fan.

 

**Erin: _Well, I’m glad._**

 

Another smiley face, this time a blushing one. Holtzmann’s heart beats a little faster in her chest. She feels warmth creeping up her neck, that familiar nervous tickle that she feels anytime she talks to Erin. Or sees Erin. Or thinks about Erin.

Any good scientist would see there’s a pattern here, and Jillian Holtzmann is the epitome of good science.

Another buzz.

 

**Erin: _Abby’s got me at this insipid party. Said it would be a good chance to meet someone._ **

**Holtzmann: _I take it it’s not going so well if you’re texting me._**

**Erin: _Not exactly looking to meet anyone. Just went so Abby would stop bothering me about it._**

 

The thoughts swirling through Holtzmann’s head give her a headache. She rubs her temples with her middle and index fingers and groans aloud, comfortable enough in the solitude of her lab. She sighs, releasing some of the tension she’s holding in her shoulders, and grabs her cell phone, then makes her way to the sofa in the corner of the room. With a running start, she leaps onto the cushion and sprawls.

Before she can reply, her phone buzzes again.

 

 **Erin: _I kinda have a crush on someone._** ****

 

A pause between texts. Holtzmann has no idea how to respond.

 

**Erin: _I haven’t told them yet, though._**

**Erin: _Still need to run it by the lab to be sure ;)_**

 

The air is suddenly hot and thick and painful. Holtzmann feels like there are pieces of glass in her lungs.

She runs her fingers through her hair and sighs, loudly. Unrequited love isn’t exactly something she’s unfamiliar with. She’s fallen for many straight girls in her youth, and each and every one has resulted in painful heartbreak. If this were anyone else, she’d ignore them until they got the hint and left her alone. She’s fine alone. Alone is good. Alone doesn’t result in eating an entire pint of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream and watching Imagine Me & You four times in a row and not showering for three days.

Erin is different.

 

**Holtzmann: _Whoever this mystery person is, they’d be lucky to have you, Erin. You should tell them._**

 

It’s a lot more serious than she’s anticipated, but whatever. She’s tired and a little bit disappointed. She should turn her phone off and head home for the night. Something stops her from doing so.

 

**Erin: _Thank you, Holtzmann._ **

 

There’s another pause between texts. Holtzmann almost chews a hole straight through her cheek as she watches the three dots blink again as Erin types.

 

**Erin: _< 3_**

 

A heart emoji. A heart emoji that looks nothing like a real heart but makes the one pumping in Holtzmann’s chest practically explode.

It could mean nothing. It could just be a simple thank you for listening and for complimenting her. Yes, Holtzmann tries to assure herself, that’s exactly what it means.

Except, maybe it doesn’t.

Holtzmann throws her phone across the couch and grabs a pillow, pulling it over her face. Sucking in a deep breath, she lets out a muffled scream of frustration.


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you stay here all night?”

Holtzmann jolts awake with a mini karate chop at the sound of Abby’s voice. “Wh—mm—what?” She rubs her eyes with her fists and blinks a few times, then buries her face back into the sofa pillow.

“You do know you have a perfectly fine apartment to sleep at, right?” Abby pulls a blue-grey blanket off of Holtzmann’s body, which the engineer responds to with a drawn-out whine. “It’s after noon. Welcome to the living.” Abby lifts Holtzmann’s legs up and settles on the other side of the sofa. “What time did you end up going to sleep?”

Holtzmann slowly sits up and shrugs. “Not sure,” she says, her voice hoarse with sleep.

“Well, what did you _do_ last night?”

What _did_ she do last night? Holtzmann looks around the lab. There aren’t empty beer or booze bottles, so there’s no reason she shouldn’t remember. A few half-finished inventions sit on two long lab tables, their metallic pieces spread all around, and her blowtorch lies haphazardly on the floor, but nothing seems particularly out of place. She runs her fingers through her tangled curls and sighs.

“I think you dropped your phone down the side of the couch?” Abby digs her hand into the far side of the sofa, reaching for the black smartphone that’s half sticking out from between the cushions.

Holtzmann doesn’t say much of anything. She so rarely uses her phone for anything but basic communication that she doesn’t have anything to hide. Occasionally, she’ll peruse Facebook with it – she has an account, but hasn’t even updated her profile picture from the default image – and sometimes she’ll watch YouTube videos of her favorite musicians or the occasional roller coaster POV – but for the most part, her cell phone sits dormant in her pocket or bag.

But she’s feeing that annoying nagging feeling at the back of her neck, her chest heavy and her brain searching for something she can’t exactly put her finger on.

Erin. Texting. Last night.

_Oh fuck._

“Gimme!” Holtzmann almost yelps, snatching the phone out of Abby’s hands.

Abby raises an eyebrow. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing.” Holtzmann slides her thumb across the bottom of the screen and checks her latest messages. There’s one from Patty asking if she’s interested in going to a movie tonight, and an automated message from her Internet provider letting her know her autopay went through, but nothing from the one person she wants to hear from most.

Abby squints and nods slowly. “Mmmhm. That’s a whole lot of something over _nothing_.” She tries to reach for Holtzmann’s cell phone again, but promptly has the top of her hand smacked. “Working the Holtzmann charm on your next conquest?”

Holtzmann glances up from her phone. “Hardy har.”

Abby stands slowly, her hands on her knees as she moves to a stand. “Love you, Holtz.” She rubs Holtzmann’s shoulder and smiles at her. “Whoever she is, don’t go breaking her heart too hard, ok?” Abby pats her arm once, then twice, before leaving her to sulk in the overwhelming silence of the lab.

“Trust me. I won’t,” Holtzmann says softly.

**-X-X-X-X-**

The next time Erin and Holtzmann see each other in person, it’s in passing at the firehouse. Holtzmann is packing up to leave for the night, finally going home to the apartment she pays way too much for and spends too little time at, when Erin brushes past her toward their shared whiteboard. Her nose is in a book, scribbling a few notes down, and tucked in the corner packing some materials and old clothes in her bag, Holtzmann’s certain Erin doesn’t see her there.

Despite the façade, Holtzmann doesn’t exactly love human interaction. For even the slightest encounters, she has to mentally prepare, coming up with a variety of flirty responses or rehearsed topics of conversation. After just a few hours being around a group, she’s usually exhausted, and has met her quota for conversation for the month.

Holtzmann doesn’t feel that way with Erin – not exactly, anyway. Their interaction surely makes her nervous, but she doesn’t feel so emotionally worn when she’s talking with Erin. Erin shows genuine interest in her day and her pursuits, and Holtz supposes it’s because she doesn’t have to feign interest in inane subjects of discussion that she feels a true connection between them. Which is what scares Holtzmann half to death. Jillian Holtzmann doesn’t make true connections with people. She bounces from group to group, with rehearsed jokes and awkward smiles, but she doesn’t stay long enough to grow comfortable. Yet being around Erin Gilbert gives her a sort of comfort she didn’t know existed.

It scares her. And when things scare her, no matter how comfortable she knows staying may make her feel, Jillian Holtzmann hides.

“Oh, Holtz! I didn’t even see you there!” Erin greets with a smile as Holtzmann tries to tiptoe away.

She responds with a tiny nod. “I’m on my way out. Lab is yours.”

“Oh.”

Surely she’s just imagining the look of disappointment across Erin’s face. _Surely_.

“Enjoy the night shift.” Holtzmann punctuates her goodbye with a two-fingered salute, then hurries down the stairs two at a time. She swears she hears Erin say something softly behind her, but she doesn’t stay long enough to make it out.

**-X-X-X-X-**

She’s on her fourth episode of the Golden Girls when she feels her phone vibrating in her pocket. She moves her glasses to the bridge of her nose, then opens the “messages” app.

 

**Erin: _Hi. Hope everything is ok. You left awful fast. :(_**

 

Holtzmann sniffs, then chews the inside of her mouth before responding.

 

**Holtzmann: _All good. Had a date with myself and some Golden Girls. Couldn’t cancel again._**

 

She contemplates adding a winky emoji, but decides against it.

 

**Erin: _Sounds like a fun night ;) I can leave you be if you’d like._**

**Holtzmann: _You’re ok._**

 

If Holtzmann’s honest, Erin is more than ‘ _ok_ ’. ‘ _Ok_ ’ is not a way Holtzmann would describe Erin Gilbert. If she had the chance, she’d describe her as brilliant, a genius, captivating. _Beautiful_.

There’s a lapse in their messages to each other, so Holtzmann takes it upon herself to continue the conversation.

 

**Holtzmann: _So, how did the rest of your night go? Anything exciting?_**

 

Her thumbs hover over the “send” button. If Erin’s not flirting with her, and she’s just asking for friendly advice, she _could_ be overstepping. On the other hand, if Erin _is_ flirting with her and she _is_ who Erin has a crush on – well god, how exactly would she handle that one? With all of her pick up lines and soft touches, Holtzmann hadn’t exactly planned for what might happen next.

 

**Erin: _Eh, not really. Like I said, party was boring. I tried working on that crush I told you about, but so far it doesn’t look like they have any interest in me…_**

 

‘ _Dot dot dot’_. Holtzmann taps her fingertips against the side of the sofa. What the actual fuck does ‘ _dot dot dot_ ’ mean?

 

**Holtzmann: _Don’t give up. If it’s meant to be – and if they have two eyes – they’ll fall hard for you. And if not, fuck ‘em._**

****

Good, Holtzmann thinks. That covers the bases. If it’s her, then Erin will continue to flirt with her and something can maybe – _possibly_ – come to fruition. And if not, well, she hasn’t gotten herself in too deep, and she won’t have to run away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

 

**Erin: _Alright, Casanova. What would you suggest? How do you get a girl to know you like them?_**

 

Holtzmann almost chokes on her own spit. _Girl._ So the crush is a girl. One step closer, one more tally in the “Jillian Holtzmann” side of the score sheet.

 

**Holtzmann: _Well, not everyone can replicate the Holtzmann charm._**

 

Feeling slightly more confident, she adds a winking emoji and presses send.

 

**Erin: _Enlighten me._**

****

Holtzmann swallows, hard. There’s no turning back if she moves forward with this. It will either end one of two ways. Either Erin has a crush on someone else, and she’s going to end up heartbroken again, or Erin _does_ have a crush on her, and she’s going to have to open herself up in ways she’s not sure she can. What would Erin think if she learned that sometimes, she has to turn all the lights off and sit in the dark because sometimes it’s the only way she can get through a day? Would she want to date someone who doesn’t care if her kitchen sink is a mess, or if the refrigerator has been cleaned in months, but has to color code her closet and sleep on top of at _least_ two blankets and below _only_ one, otherwise her body heat gets all out of whack and she’ll be up all night?

‘ _Deep breath, Jillian_ ,’ she tells herself while exhaling slowly. ‘ _She’s asking for advice, not to adopt a child._ ’

 

**Holtzmann: _You could try a nice dinner? What’s her favorite food?_**

**Erin: _I’m…that’s a good question. I’m not sure._**

****

Holtzmann plays with her phone for a moment, absentmindedly tapping but not really doing anything. She doesn’t want to reply immediately, doesn’t want to sound too desperate or awkward. ‘ _Spaghetti_ ,’ she wants to reply with an appropriate pasta emoji to lighten the mood. ‘ _My favorite food is spaghetti_.’ Instead, she struggles to come up with a response, wracking her brain for something appropriately flirtatious without crossing a line.

This is why she likes to keep things casually with women, no strings attached, no pressure. She’s always in control, and she’s always the one to initiate affections. When their time is done, they part – usually amicably – and carry on with their lives.

But this feels different. The possibility of being grounded with Erin doesn’t seem as scary as relationships have in the past.

Why, then, is this so difficult?

Holtzmann pulls up their text conversation again and holds her breath as she types.

 

**Holtzmann: _Blanche, Sophia, Dorothy and Rose are calling to me. Let me know how your wooing goes, Gilbert._** ****

**Erin: _Goodnight, Holtzmann. Sweet dreams._**

Despite Erin’s well wishes, Holtzmann barely sleeps that night.

 

**-X-X-X-X-**

When Holtzmann arrives at the firehouse in the early afternoon, she doesn’t notice it at first. In fact, she’s working on an improvement to her latest containment unit, ear buds in her ears, her hips swaying back and forth to the beat of some random song from the American Top 40 channel, when a white plastic bag catches the corner of her eye. With their line of work, nothing really surprises her, so with an air of confidence, she walks over to the bag and opens it.

Holtzmann's ears ring and the world seems to shrink, the center of her universe now on the clear container with a blue lid inside of the plastic shopping bag. Her hands shake as she takes it out, inspecting it as though it is the wiring to an intricate bomb.

Spaghetti. Homemade spaghetti and meatballs. And to top it off, a simple, handwritten note on a piece of notebook paper.

“Enjoy. –E”

Before Erin can find her, Holtzmann grabs her coat and rushes to the roof, feeling as though the wind has been knocked out of her lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make the author smile :)


	3. Chapter 3

Standing toward the edge of the roof of the firehouse, Holtzmann finds it nearly impossible to breathe. It isn’t the chill in the air or the current altitude that squeezes her lungs; no, that would be the way Erin Gilbert makes her feel with the tiniest gesture, let alone when she walks into the room or says hello. Holtzmann tries to inhale slowly and steadily through her nose, bent slightly over with her palms resting on her knees. “Shit,” she curses under her breath.

“Holtzy baby,” Patty calls from the fire escape. “What the hell are you doing?”

Holtzmann blinks a few times, steadying herself. She takes a few steps back from the ledge, realizing just how close she is to it and how the situation might look from a bystander. Holtz stands tall and runs her fingers through the swoop of waves pinned on the top of head. “I’m good, Patty. Thanks.”

Patty pulls herself up to the roof and walks toward Holtzmann. “Like hell you are.” She grabs a nearby lawn chair – one they leave on the rooftop for watching fireworks or events in the city – and situates herself next to Holtzmann, sitting slowly with a groan. “You only come up here alone when something is wrong. Now.” Patty points at another chair. “Tell Patty all about it.”

With a heavy sigh, Holzmann slumps into the other chair and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I’m waiting.” Patty taps her blue-painted nails repeatedly on the armrest of her chair.

“I just…” Holtzmann chews the inside of her lower lip and stares forward, looking unfocused at the skyscrapers and the puffy clouds above them. “There’s this…girl. She’s….” Holtzmann sighs, then finally turns toward Patty. “I don’t do really well with....” She waves her hands wildly. “Emotions. _Feelings_.”

“Do I know this girl?” Patty’s smile is wide and her eyes glisten.

Holtzmann simply responds by sinking further into her seat.

“Well this….mystery woman.” Patty swallows the little laugh creeping up her throat. “Does she like you back? What’s the problem?”

“I don’t….I don’t _know_.” Holtzmann squints. “I _think_ so?” She taps her foot quickly, nervously. “I’m….I really don’t do well in these types of situations.”

Patty pats Holtzmann’s shoulder, then gives it a squeeze. “I know, baby. But what’s the worst that can happen?”

“The _worst_ that can happen? Well, I could make a fool of myself. Open myself up just to get shot down. I’ll never be able to face her again if I tell her how I feel and it turns out she doesn’t… _ugh_!” Holtzmann buries her face in her hands. “You know when you go to the movies,” Holtz mumbles into her palms until Patty gently pulls at her hair to pick her head up again, “and the ticket taker tells you to enjoy your movie and you say ‘you too!’? And then you can _neve_ r go to that theater again because you are totally mortified because they’re not seeing a movie, _you_ are, and you just made a fool of yourself and that’s basically how I feel every time I speak to her or look at her or-“

“Holtzy, take a breath,” Patty chuckles. “What’s meant to be will be. You won’t even know unless you really talk to her. For all you know, she likes you back. And then you’ve just been running around in circles when you and Erin-“

Holtzmann’s eyes bulge.

“I mean, you and _mystery lady_ behind door number 1,” Patty corrects with a wink. “Just talk to her. Erin’s a good girl. Even if, God forbid,” Patty raises her hands up slightly, “she doesn’t feel the same way, she’s not going to do anything to hurt you.”

Holtzmann sighs, heavily, and rests her head against the back of the lawn chair. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly, the smoggy, pungent New York City air burning her lungs as she does so.

“Speaking of movies, I texted you about going to see something but you didn’t respond. How about we catch that new Emily Blunt movie? The Girl on the Train? Getting out of this place and away from the radiation oozing around your damned lab could do you some good.” Patty stands and faces Holtzmann, who still sits with her eyes closed and her face pointed to the sky. Annoyed, Patty snaps her fingers in front of Holtzmann’s face. “Earth to Holtzy. I know you’re probably daydreaming about _She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ but-“

“I am _not!_ ” Holtzmann whines, opening her eyes and scrunching up her nose.

“Come out with me tomorrow night. Get your head out of the nuclear clouds and have some fun.” Patty cocks her head to the side and waits with her arms folded across her chest, shifting her weight to her right leg.

“Fine.” Holtzmann jumps up from her chair and puffs out her chest, trying to size Patty up despite the fact that the woman has almost a foot on her. The pair break out into a fit of much-needed laughter, and when they finally catch their breaths, Patty pulls Holtzmann into a tight hug. “Look up some movie times and text me tonight, ok?”

“Ok.” Holtzmann waves absently as Patty makes her way back down to the main level of the firehouse.

**-X-X-X-X-**

The rest of the day goes by with little trouble. A schoolteacher calls in a class 1 ghost – the remains of a cafeteria meal gone evil. They determine that the entire team would be more than overkill for the magnitude of the bust, so Erin and Abby head off together to capture whatever spooks lurk at Allen Elementary School. Her talk with Patty significantly clears her head and calms her nerves, and Holtzmann makes great progress on the proton shotgun she’s been working on for weeks. Despite only being in for a few hours, she’s excelled far beyond where she expected to be by the end of the week, and decides that heading home early for the night wouldn’t cause too much harm.

After a delicious dinner of Erin’s spaghetti, a 2-liter of orange soda and a side of salt & vinegar Pringles, Holtzmann sprawls out across the sofa in her apartment, painfully full. The food baby growing inside her pulses uncomfortably. Holtzmann mentally notes to add this meal to the ever-growing list of Jillian Holtzmann’s poor life decisions.

Trying to get her mind off of her churning guts, Holtzmann pulls up Fandango on her phone to check movie times for her date with Patty. She’s comparing the different showtimes for various nearby theaters when the notification of a new text message appears at the top of her screen, paired with a high-pitched ‘ _ding_ ’.

 

**Erin: _I didn’t get to see you all day. Hope you’re ok :)_**

 

Holtzmann swallows, hard.

 

**Holtzmann: _All’s well on the Eastern front. How did the bust go?_**

****

**Erin: _Relatively painless. Easy catch, but, as always, the slime seemed to be drawn to me. Two showers later and I still found some behind my ear._**

Holtzmann coughs, trying to avoid the inevitable picture of Erin showering that creeps from the back of her mind to the forefront of her thoughts. _Goddamn it._

**Holtzmann: _That’s unfortunate._ **

 

She contemplates adding something flirtatious, about how she would help get Erin thoroughly clean if she were there, but after typing just a few words, she’s completely embarrassed by the tone and decides against it, deleting the entire message.

 

**Holtzmann: _Thank you for the spaghetti. It was really delicious._**

****

**Erin: _No problem. Old family recipe. I know you forget to eat sometimes when you’re deep in your builds. I was making it anyway and figured you would enjoy it._**

 

Holtzmann frowns. “ _Making it anyway_.” Does that mean that it wasn’t intended for her in the first place? That she was making it for some other girl and decided to give her the leftovers just because? A tinge of jealousy buzzes in the center of Holtzmann’s chest.

But maybe she’s just playing coy, waiting for _her_ to make the next move. It’s not like Erin has been particularly forthright in her flirtations thus far, and Holtzmann wonders if Erin’s maybe feeling as awkward and shy as she is.

Before she has the opportunity to respond, Erin texts her again.

 

**Erin: _If I wanted to ask someone on a first date, where would you recommend?_**

****

**Erin: _You have more experience than I about what ladies like ;)_**

****

Winky smiley. Holtzmann thinks she may die.

With the buzzing in her brain, Holtzmann finds it difficult to formulate a response. A first date. Where would she want Erin to take her on a first date? A romantic restaurant is too intimate for a budding relationship. Somewhere outdoors could work, but New York City weather is so fickle, and plans could easily be ruined. Holtz pulls out her phone to research some options when she notices the Fandango tab up in her Safari browser.

The movies.

 

**Holtzmann: _You could invite her to a movie._**

 

She wants to add that she loves movies, but decides against that as well.

 

**Erin: _Great idea. Thanks, Holtz._**

 

Holtzmann nods to herself.

 

**Holtzmann: _You’re welcome, Erin._**

****

Holtzmann waits. And waits. Waits for Erin to text her back, to ask her out to the movies. Patty won’t mind if they have to shift their plans by a day. She clearly sees the romantic tension between them, having mentioned Erin by name. The sides of Holtzmann’s mouth curl up into a smile and her heart races as she thinks of a movie date with Erin, with shared soda straws and throwing popcorn down Erin’s blouse, of smoothly wrapping her arm around Erin’s shoulder during any of the scary parts.

It’s all too perfect; it’s the perfect plan for the perfect date with the perfect girl.

Unlike the previous night, Holtzmann falls into a comfortable, cozy sleep and waits for Erin to ask her on this perfectly amazing date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make the author smile :)


	4. Chapter 4

When Holtzmann arrives at the firehouse the next day, she is practically floating, a goofy grin plastered across her face as she skips through the entryway toward the lab she shares with Erin. She almost manages to get up there unscathed, but Abby quickly rounds the corner at the top of the staircase, arms crossed over her chest and a smug smile on her lips.

“What the hell are you so happy about?” Abby asks, popping her hip and resting her body against the cream-colored walls.

“Well good morning to you too, Abby the Crabby.” Holtzmann blows a raspberry and pushes forward. She raises her chin slightly in the air and smiles even wider, ignoring the suspicious stare from her coworker that practically burns into the back of her head.

“You’re here early,” Erin comments as Holtzmann enters the lab.

Holtzmann glances down at the watch on her wrist: **11am**.

“Well, early for _you_ , anyway,” Erin adds.

“Oh, fair Juliet, I couldn’t stand another moment apart.” With a particular pep and confidence in her step, Holtzmann shoots a flirtatious smile in Erin’s direction. Unexpectedly, Erin smiles back, and for a moment, Holtzmann’s slightly derailed, spinning on her heels toward her own desk to awkwardly focus on anything _other_ than the way Erin is looking at her. She sets her bag down on the silver lab table and pulls out a bag of donuts she’d picked up from a nearby bakery on her way in.

“Whatcha working on?” Holtzmann asks, casually, her back still to Erin as she fumbles awkwardly with the off-white bakery bag. A heavy, dramatically sigh from behind her causes Holtzmann to turn and look at Erin questioningly with her head cocked slightly to the side.

“I…” Erin runs her hands through her hair and sighs. “I’m not even sure at this point. I feel like I’ve been running in circles trying to figure this all out.”

Holtzmann moves across the room, leaning back onto Erin’s wood-stained desk with her arms crossed over her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, Holtzmann can see an array of paperwork with Erin’s meticulous handwriting on it. “Want to talk about it?”

Erin sucks in a deep breath and begins the tale of her scientific woes. Her hands wave animatedly in the air as she talks about the various obstacles she’s encountered over the last few weeks, but her words seem to fade out as Holtzmann simply watches, completely enamored. Frustration has never looked more beautiful than an exasperated Erin Gilbert.

Holtzmann doesn’t try to get attached. Despite her flirtations, she lets things come naturally, and she certainly doesn’t go out of her way when it comes to relationships, so when she finds herself staring at Erin’s lips and imagining different scenarios to kiss them, Holtzmannn can’t help but feel something… _weird._

“What do you think I should do?” Erin asks, and that snaps Holtzmann back to reality.

She blinks a few times like a deer in headlights. “Donut?” Holtzmann asks – less a question, more an alibi. In a flash, she jumps off the desk and bolts for the bakery bag, pulling out a sticky, sweet donut and shoving half of it in her mouth without a second thought. “Chocolate or vanilla?” Holtz mumbles behind a mouthful of rainbow-colored sprinkles and chocolate icing.

“Uhh.” Erin scratches the back of her head and eyes the greasy donut bag. “I really shouldn’t...” She clears her throat. “Watching my figure.”

Holtzmann shrugs, then licks a dollop of frosting from her thumb. “Why? Hot date or something?” She tries to cover the slight way her voice shakes on the word ‘ _date_ ’.

“Well, actually…”

‘ _This is it_ ,’ Holtzmann thinks, her heart racing. Mouth suddenly dry, it’s almost impossible to swallow; the remnants of the chocolate icing from the greasy donut aren’t helping either. Junk food, although her favorite, was a poor life decision, Holtz decides, when coupled with the nervousness bubbling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Erin asking her out on a date.

“Ladies, suit up!” Abby calls from the overhead intercom system they’d installed shortly after moving in to the firehouse. “New York Public Library. The entire horror section is apparently haunted by the ghosts of Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley!”

“Well that’s ironic,” Erin mumbles under her breath. Before Holtzmann gets the chance to say anything else to her, Erin’s out of the lab and galloping down the staircase toward the laundry room where their jumpsuits hang.

Holtzmann slams her fist against the silver lab table, the heat of frustration causing a soft pink to spread across her neck and cheeks.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“You’ve got some...” Holtzmann points at Erin’s earlobe where a clump of damp, brown hair lays, a glob of green ectoplasm pooling at the bottom of the strands. A few seconds later, the snot-like substance loosens its hypothetical grip and slithers slowly, snakelike, down the length of Erin’s neck.

Holtzmann shouldn’t be envious of the equivalent of ghost vomit sliding across her coworker’s neck, but she can’t find the willpower to stop staring as it continues its path downward to Erin’s clavicle. Finally, it settles just above Erin’s breasts, and it isn’t until the physicist huffs and wipes away the goo with the back of her hand that Holtzmann finally looks away.

**-X-X-X-X-**

To Holtzmann’s dismay, Erin doesn’t ask her out that afternoon. She waits and waits, watching Erin out of the corner of her eye when they’ve returned to the lab. Absentmindedly, Holtzmann burns the tip of her index finger as she solders some copper, and it isn’t until the smell of hot flesh fills her nose and the high-pitched sound of Erin exclaiming “ _Holtzmann! Fire **burns** people!_ ” fills the room that she realizes she’s in no condition to work when thoughts of going on a date with Erin Gilbert swirl inside her head. They’ll just have to figure out these plans _outside_ of work, Holtzmann decides.

Erin rushes over to her, asking if she’s ok and if she can get her anything and what _exactly_ was she _doing_.

“Distracted,” Holtzmann grunts. She sucks on the burnt finger and refuses to make eye contact with Erin, who is no-doubt giving her that concerned, motherly-slash-wifely look that Holtzmann equally loves and hates. Definitely hates. Mostly hates. Only _kinda_ hates….

“Think I might be coming down with something.” She fakes a cough. It’s the best excuse Holtzmann can come up with as she gathers her belongings like a whirlwind, all the while still refusing to look Erin in the eye.

“Oh, uh…” Erin moves behind her, resting her hand on Holtzmann’s shoulder, and it absolutely paralyzes her. It’s the softest of touches and yet Holtzmann can’t even remember how to breathe, let alone say something in response to Erin’s concern.

“Later!” Holtzmann squeaks, her voice shifting up several octaves. She jumps down the staircase, three steps at a time, and makes her way out of the firehouse in record time. It isn’t until she’s almost two blocks away that she finally pulls her cell phone out and opens the iMessage app on her phone.

 

**Holtzmann: _7:30PM. Tonight. Movie theater. Preferably one that serves alcohol._** ****

 

**Patty: _See you then, Holtzy._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make the author smile :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> An update! :D 
> 
> Enjoy, my friends.

Holtzmann arrives at the AMC theater on 84th around 7pm. The theater is crowded, much more busy than she’d expected it to be. She moves to her tiptoes, straining to see above the crowd of people in front of her and find Patty. After a few minutes of wandering around aimlessly, Holtzmann eventually sits down in the small arcade within the theater’s lobby and pulls out her cell phone to send her Patty a message.

 

**Holtzmann: _I’m here. This place is insane. Where are you?_**

 

The arcade begins to fill with tweens on group dates, and Holtzmann can feel the anxiety creeping up the back of her neck. She taps her tennis shoe on the tile floor, the aglet of her untied laces clicking against it.

 

**Holtzmann _: If you ditch me, Tolan, I swear…_**

 

Several minutes later, Patty still hasn’t responded, and Holtzmann simply cannot sit still any longer. She shoves her phone in the pocket of her cargo pants and walks over to the collection of games lined against the wall. Skimming over them, Holtzmann eventually settles in front of an old-school pinball machine.

Like one of her inventions, she analyzes each part – every light, every peg, every twist and turn within the box to determine the best course of action. She pulls two quarters from her pocket and inserts them into the slot; the entire game comes to life with a loud ding. The flashing lights and music are almost too much for her, but she tunes them out as best she can and focuses on the task at hand. Inhaling slowly, Holtzmann bends her knees and twists the ball-release knob.

Holtzmann’s not just good at pinball – she’s actually _excellent_ at it. Her score quickly skyrockets into the thousands, and she’s so intensely focused that she barely notices the young woman slide up next to her at the machine.

“You’re _really_ good at that,” the girl compliments. She smiles and tosses her red-highlighted hair seductively.

“Mmm,” Holtzmann grunts with a nod of her head. She’s not oblivious to the fact that she’s been flirted with, but she frankly doesn’t care. It isn’t until the ball falls between the flippers with a series of deep bellows from the machines and the fading of blinking lights that Holtzmann is forced to confront the woman invading her space.

“Where did you learn to play like that?”

“Um.” Holtzmann scratches the back of her head and shifts her body weight onto her left leg. “Nowhere special. I’ve just always been good at video games. Good with my hands.” She wiggles her fingers in front of her face and smiles.

A coy smile spreads across the redhead’s face.

Old Holtzmann would have used this situation to her advantage and talked herself up, probably resulting in a quick hook-up in the movie-theater bathroom and an awkward goodbye at the end of it all. But _this_ Holtzmann – this Holtzmann who’s head over heels for a certain brunette professor of Physics. As Holtz struggles to find an out, she swears she sees Erin out of the corner of her eye, dressed in the low-cut blouse reserved for special events that Holtzmann has only seen her wear once and absolutely _adores._

“I, uhh…” Holtzmann stands on her tiptoes and searches around for another glimpse of Erin, but the crowd becomes denser as the showtime gets closer. “Excuse me,” she apologizes, giving the red head’s arm a soft squeeze before darting out from the arcade area and into the wall of people. She’s certain she’s caught another glimpse of Erin when a familiar voice snaps her out of her trance.

“Holtzy!”

Holtzmann halts on her heels and turns.

“Hey baby!” Patty waves and grins.

“Hey,” Holtzmann greets quickly over her shoulder, then goes back to searching the crowd.

“Ready to go in? I got our tickets.”

“I swear I saw…” Holtzmann’s voice softens, then trails off. Feeling slightly confused, she sighs and turns back to her movie date. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.” She spins and grabs one of the tickets from Patty’s hands. “Can we get some popcorn?”

Patty laughs. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

 

**-X-X-X-X-**

 

After fifteen minutes of waiting in line and Holtzmann’s flip-flopping between one hot dog or two, the pair shuffles into the darkness of the theater with their arms full of greasy, fatty snacks. Squinting in the darkness, Holtzmann finds them a pair of seats toward the center of the room. It’s more crowded than either of them had anticipated, and they politely squeeze by already-seated patrons, dropping a few popcorn kernels from the top of the bag in the process into the lap of a surly, old man. He shoots them both a dirty look that even Holtzmann can’t miss in the dark, but she ignores it with a shrug, plopping into her seat with a grunt.

Barely a minute later, the previews begin to play on the large, glowing screen. Holtzmann’s not exactly a movie aficionado – unlike Patty, who watches with wide eyes and unwavering excitement. Holtzmann devours the first hot dog in two and a half bites, followed by a handful of popcorn. She wipes the slimy, oily residue of the butter on the thigh of her pants and takes a sip from the giant vat of soda in the cup-holder between them.

As the previews continue to play, Holtzmann lets her mind wander, her attention already wavering. When she was a child, her father taught her the art of people watching. He showed her all about how to read faces and body language, to see the fragility and beauty beyond the first glance – the superficial. Tonight, she uses that skill, watching her fellow movie goers.

To her right, there’s a couple who Holtzmann senses is probably on a first date. The nervous energy between them wafts through the air, and she can’t help but feel slightly envious. In front of her, there’s a group of middle-aged women whispering and laughing amongst one another; Holtzmann hopes that Patty and her will be just like that in twenty years. And of course, to their left is the surly old man and, presumably, his wife. It appears he’s been dragged there, and based on his attitude, Holtzmann doesn’t exactly feel sorry for him.

“I want to see that,” Patty whispers into Holtz’s ear at the end of the last preview. Holtzmann humors her with a nod, having not paid much attention but not looking forward to the chastising she’d get with that confession. _‘The previews are the best part’_ should practically be written on Patty Tolan’s grave with the way she says it like a mantra every time they go to a movie.

“You weren’t paying attention, were you?” Patty asks.

Holtzmann responds by shoving half of her remaining hot dog into her mouth.

As the movie begins, the house lights fully dim. The theater is left in darkness until the bright Dreamworks Pictures logo swoops onto the screen, casting a blue-ish glow onto the faces of each audience member. It makes Holtzmann’s people-watching slightly more difficult, but doesn’t totally dissuade her.

Emily Blunt is _hot._ Possibly hot with two t’s, Holtzmann debates. But after a few minutes on screen, she can’t help but think about another tall, thin brunette that _actually_ exists outside of her Hollywood daydreaming.

_Erin._

  
Erin - with her goofy, slightly crooked smile. Erin -  with her occasional shyness and her infectious laugh. Erin in her low-cut, purple blouse.

Erin – who is _definitely_ sitting at the far end of the row in front of her.

Holtzmann squints, trying to make out more details amidst the darkness. There’s no mistaking the defined angle of Erin’s cheek and jawbone, and the way her auburn hair cradles her face. Her bangs are slightly uneven, but it’s just one of the many things Holtzmann loves about her.

Erin turns her head to the person next to her and smiles. It’s a warm, soft smile – one that Holtzmann’s been on the receiving end of many times; she’s actually embarrassed by the way her cheeks and neck grow hot at the mere thought of it.

But then the woman next to Erin turns and wraps her arm around her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze, and Holtzmann feels as though the whole world shifts into slow motion. Her mouth instantly goes dry, a fistful of half chewed popcorn stuck in the center of her throat, like she’s completely forgotten how to swallow or eat or even _move_. The sound of the movie theater fades out into a dull, fly-like buzz in Holtzmann’s ears.

 

**Erin: _If I wanted to ask someone on a first date, where would you recommend?_**

**Erin: _You have more experience than I about what ladies like ;)_**

**Holtzmann: _You could invite her to a movie._**

****

The text conversation plays on repeat in Holtzmann’s mind, and the way this mysterious girl is whispering now in Erin’s ear makes her want to vomit; two hot dogs and half a bag of popcorn now seem like a terrible idea as the acid in her stomach swishes and flips.

Erin never wanted to ask her on a date, Holtzmann convinces herself. She’d asked for the advice of a friend, and that’s all she’ll ever be to Erin – a _friend_.

Holtzmann doesn’t even try to mask her tears as she rushes out of the theater and down the hallway to find the nearest bathroom, doing what she’s always done best – _run away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more! :D What do you think will happen next?!


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